


The Guild's Cut

by phoenixquest



Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Dunmer - Freeform, F/M, Oral Sex, Outdoor Sex, Rough Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-28
Updated: 2014-03-28
Packaged: 2018-01-17 08:00:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,365
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1379974
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/phoenixquest/pseuds/phoenixquest
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Guildmaster Mercer Frey tries to sneak up on the Dunmer Dragonborn, Sathea, as he follows her, but she’s too quick for him. A wrestling match ensues, and Mercer is afraid of vampires (who knew?) Mature content (and for once, not terribly fluffy. Probably the least-fluffy fic I’ve ever written in my life) and still lots of fun.</p><p>Skyrim and all in-game content is property of Bethesda, not me. I'm just playing in their world.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Guild's Cut

Mercer Frey crept stealthily through the shadows of Riften’s outer wall, keeping a sharp eye open. No one would be stupid enough to cross him if he was recognized, he knew, but he didn’t feel like the hassle at the moment.

No, right now Mercer was stalking his prey, and he’d be damned if anything gave him away.

He wasn’t entirely sure who his prey was, in all reality; the lithe body he could see in the moonlight beneath the dark armor hinted at a woman, but in the darkness with a hood concealing their head, it was impossible to be sure. Whoever it was, they moved nearly as silently as he did himself, which he found surprising.

He’d first spotted the shadow creeping out of the stablehouse, a noticeable bag of loot in their hands. It seemed clear this thief didn’t know whose territory this was, and Mercer had every intention of showing them. He knew he hadn’t sent any of his own out to the stables this evening, so it could only be an intruder. As soon as he found out where they were going, he was going to put a stop to it at once.

Suddenly, his prey stopped at the stream, kneeling down next to it; he smirked as he watched the shadow drink, clearly with no idea they’d been followed. Well, this was as good an opportunity as any.

Mercer advanced on the silent shadow, keeping silent and hidden himself as he crept up on them. He was a sword’s length away; he wasn’t about to kill the thief unless necessary, but it wouldn’t hurt to put a little fear in them. Just as he was about to set the flat of the blade on the armored shoulder, the other thief whipped around, dagger out, throwing Mercer’s sword to the side with a deftness he had never seen, and had Mercer pinned against a tree with a blade at his throat before he could even blink.

“Mercer?” the voice asked, clearly surprised. Mercer’s senses finally caught up with him and he registered the soft, lilting voice and dark red eyes beneath the hood.

“Sathea,” he spat. Or, at least, he would have, had he not been trembling slightly with the adrenaline of fear from the quick reaction. In reality it came out as more of a breath.

“Why were you following me?” The garnet-rich eyes narrowed.

“Why were you stealing from the stable?” Mercer ground out, the adrenaline fading and his anger taking its place. How dare this new blood threaten him like this?

"I’m a _thief_ ,” Sathea replied in annoyance. “I make my money by stealing it. Do I really need to explain this to you, Mercer?”

“Don’t sass me, footpad,” Mercer snarled. “And it’s Guildmaster to you.” Sathea snorted, clearly unimpressed.

Mercer thought he was to be praised on remaining as calm as he was. Having witnessed the elf’s catlike reflexes already, he was loathe to do much that would cause those quick fingers to flick that dagger and behead him.

Fortunately for Mercer, once he’d regained his footing in the exchange, he was quite as nimble as she was.

In an instant, he’d brought his hand up, carefully but swiftly forcing the dagger away from his throat before wrenching the Dunmer’s arm behind her back, a cry of surprise and pain issuing from her throat. Before she could do anything else, he’d efficiently disarmed her, leaving her as weaponless as himself.

“Let me go,” Sathea growled. Mercer chuckled darkly.

“Trying to murder the Guildmaster in your first week?” he taunted. “And I thought _I_ was ambitious.”

“At least I didn’t try to sneak up on you for it,” Sathea snapped. “Guildmaster, or recruit for the Dark Brotherhood? Not that you’d make a good one,” she goaded. “I could hear you since I left the stables.” Her sentence ended in a cry of pain as Mercer wrenched her arm up higher.

“Nice try, footpad, but you’re the one that got caught leaving the stables,” Mercer sneered. “At least it was me, and not some guard.”

“Yeah, right,” Sathea snorted. “As if any of those idiot guards could’ve followed me past the tree line. FEIM!” The last word was unexpectedly cried out in a louder noise than Mercer would’ve thought the little elf capable of producing. The next second, his hand was clutching air; she’d disappeared.

“Dammit, elf!” he said, enraged. His sharp eyes caught the movement of a few leaves on the ground; she was heading for her dagger. “I don’t think so.” Before she could reach it, he’d kicked the dagger away, so hard it landed in the stream.

“Damn you, Mercer!” Sathea cried, rounding on him as she became solid once more and landing a punch to his jaw before he could register it. “That was my best dagger!”

“What in Oblivion did you just do?” Mercer growled, clutching his jaw where she’d hit him as his other hand flashed out to grab her wrist, preventing her from leaving. “What was that noise?”

Sathea tried to yank her wrist away, but his grip was too strong. Instead she went on the offensive, bracing herself and slamming into him with her shoulder. He staggered, falling, and she managed to perch herself on top of him, her knee on his chest and her hands pinning his arms. Given the slight hill his head was down, she had the advantage of gravity to help her keep him pinned; he couldn’t do anything about it. He scowled.

“Dragon Shout,” Sathea said, her voice smug. “I’m Dragonborn. I can turn into nothing, I can detect others nearby, I can make animals listen to me, I can slow down time…and I can breathe fire,” she added with a smirk. She was pleased to see his skin pale slightly beneath his own hood.

“Let me up, _Dragonborn_ ,” Mercer sneered, showing clear disdain for the title. “And you damn well better be giving the Guild its share of what you took. Particularly in Guild territory.”

“You mean give you _your_ share,” Sathea snorted, rolling her eyes. “Like the rest of the Guild would ever see it.” Mercer froze at that; was she implying what he thought she was? “What’s the matter, _Guildmaster_?” she taunted, putting as much disdain into his title as he had to hers. “Didn’t think anyone would ever catch on to you, hmm?”

“What are you talking about?” Mercer bluffed, brushing it off. Clearly, she was trying to get him to reveal something, to slip up; she’d been with them all of one month. She couldn’t have any idea what he was doing behind the backs of the rest of them. “Get off of me, before I make you regret it.”

“You know exactly what I’m talking about,” Sathea said, her voice deadly serious as she eyed him. He felt her relax just the tiniest bit, presumably focusing on the conversation, but it was all he needed. She yelped as he brought his hips up hard into her, sending her wildly off balance and tumbling to the ground behind him. He tried to ignore the impatient throb between his legs the action had prompted.

She tumbled down the short hill a little ways before he caught up with her, pinning her this time – his sword was dangerously close by, and he would not risk her getting her hands on it, even if it meant he couldn’t either. He straddled her, his bulkier size keeping her in place as one arm was pinned behind her back – a result of the fall.

“Humor me, then, little elf,” he challenged. “What exactly do you think you’ve ‘caught on’ to?”

“You aren’t as subtle as you think you are, Breton,” Sathea taunted. “Maybe the rest of them are too blindly trusting of you, or maybe they’re all just fools; I don’t know. But I am no fool, and I knew the moment I laid eyes on you I couldn’t trust you.”

“And what do you think you’ve found out?” Mercer growled. _Dammit_ , he thought. Now he was going to have to kill her. He hadn’t particularly wanted to.

“You’re stealing from the Guild,” Sathea said simply. “Taking every drop you can manage, right from under their noses.”

She said it so bluntly, so nonchalantly, he couldn’t think how to reply for a moment. Instead, he simply stared at her.

“I can hardly blame you,” she finally added. “Particularly as easy as they make it.”

“So, what now?” Mercer asked impatiently, squeezing the one wrist he held harder. He enjoyed the grimace she gave him for it. “You think I’m going to let you walk away from here, go tell them all? They won’t believe you, new blood. They’ve known me for years.”

“I’ve known since the third day I came here, oh master thief,” she replied condescendingly. “I haven’t said anything to anyone yet. Why would I bother now?”

This was a fair point. Then again, if anyone knew how to patiently hold information until the opportune moment, it was him. 

“So you’ll hold it over my head until you need it,” he accused. She smirked.

“If that isn’t the pot calling the kettle black,” she mused. “It’s no more than what you’d do yourself.”

“How can you possibly know that?” Mercer demanded. She’d been around him a month and already knew him better than the rest of his Guild? Ridiculous.

“I watch people,” Sathea said simply. “I watch everyone. And I know more than anyone assumes.”

“Like what?” Mercer prompted, admittedly intrigued. She grinned.

“Like Brynjolf and Tonilia run off together a lot.”

“Everyone knows that,” Mercer said dismissively. “Even that idiot, Vekel, knows it.”

“Like Vex has a thing for you,” she taunted. Mercer growled, squeezing her wrist more firmly. “And so does Rune.” His eyes widened at that; it sure explained why the stuttering fool could hardly speak around him. 

“I’m afraid you wasted your opportune moment with that information,” Mercer said dryly, “as it’s not going to make me let you go. But I admit I’m impressed – your betrayal of their confidences was something I assumed beneath you.”

“Confidences?” Sathea laughed. “Right. I’m a Dunmer – no one confides anything in the likes of me. I told you, I pay attention.”

“So you think you’ve got the Guild all figured out, then, do you?” Mercer asked, shaking his head. “Being cocky will get you nowhere in this profession.”

“It isn’t cocky,” Sathea argued. “It’s confidence.” Her expression slowly turned into a smile, confusing him. “FUS!” 

Mercer flew through the air, landing hard on his leg and grunting in pain. Damn that elf to Oblivion.

“I think,” Sathea said, getting to her feet and dusting herself off as she walked toward Mercer’s sword, “that this will do nicely as a repayment for the dagger you so callously kicked away.”

“Don’t touch that,” Mercer snapped, attempting to push himself to his feet only to fall with a groan the next second. Whatever had happened to his leg was clearly not good. Sathea laughed.

“What’s the matter, Guildmaster?” she asked innocently, picking up the Dwarven sword and testing it out with a few swings. “Don’t like people playing with your possessions carelessly? Whoops!” she added, intentionally letting go of handle so the sword sailed toward the water.

“Damn you!” Mercer cried out angrily, determinedly stumbling toward her this time. The sword, however, stuck in the muddy ground a few feet from the water’s edge, perfectly unharmed.

“Oh, sit down before you hurt yourself worse,” Sathea huffed indignantly, coming over to him. As he collapsed to the pain in his leg, growling, she knelt next to him, shaking her head.

“Get away from me,” Mercer growled. “Take your loot and be done with it. And leave my damn sword!”

“Where do you plan to go on an injured leg?” Sathea said impatiently. “Hold still and I’ll heal the damn thing, you big baby.”

“I told you to get away,” Mercer snapped, pushing her shoulder. She ignored him.

“What’s the matter, Mercer?” Sathea smirked. “Don’t you _trust_ me?”

“Like hell,” Mercer said. “You know enough magic to heal, then you know enough magic to harm. You’ll set me on fire.”

“Amusing as that’d be,” Sathea grinned, “I could do that standing over there. Now hold still.” Ignoring his protest, she placed her hands firmly on his leg and sent healing magic through her hands.

Her hands were warm anyway, as was the way with Dunmer. But the magic…

It flowed through him, setting fire to his very blood, but in the most delicious way possible. The last time anyone had healed him like this, it had been Karliah…and it felt just the same. The warm, tingling feeling spreading all throughout him, he couldn’t help letting out a low groan of pleasure.

“Better?” Sathea asked, her voice a little strangled, though she didn’t yet move her hands.

“Yes,” Mercer growled, and Sathea yanked her hands away at once. “I hope you’re not expecting a thank you.”

“From you?” Sathea snorted. “I’m not stupid.” She got to her feet, dusting herself off and walking back toward her pack. To her surprise, Mercer got there first, his fingers grabbing the strap on her pack just before hers reached it. “Give it here,” Sathea demanded, holding out her hand.

“How much of a haul did you get?” Mercer asked, raising an eyebrow as he held the pack just out of her reach. She glared at him.

“None of your business,” Sathea snapped.

“You’re in the Guild,” Mercer reminded her. “It _is_ my business.”

“This wasn’t a Guild job,” Sathea argued. “It has nothing to do with the Guild.”

“You are in the Guild,” Mercer repeated. “And it was in the Guild’s city. You give me the Guild’s cut.”

“Not on your life,” Sathea snarled, heartily wishing she hadn’t bothered healing him; she could’ve taken off by now. Curse her weak heart. “You’ve got enough.”

Mercer smirked then, making a show of opening the pack.

“I’ll just look for myself, then, shall I?”

As he was reaching into the pack, looking into its depths, he was hit hard as Sathea came at him, knocking him to the ground once more. His grip on her pack loosened, sending the entire thing flying off to the side.

“That’s _mine_ ,” Sathea growled, grabbing him by the neck of his hood and yanking his face close to hers as she pinned him. “Don’t you ever touch my things again.”

“I’ll touch what I like,” Mercer said smugly. “And I’ll take what I like, too.” With that, he brought his arm up, smacking it against her own so she was thrown off balance, and finally landing on top of her.

Sathea struggled against him, upending them so she was once more on top.

“You bastard,” she spat in his face. He snickered.

“Most likely,” he agreed, spinning them around so she was again at his mercy, his hands at her throat.

They kept up the odd dance; Mercer pinning Sathea, Sathea pinning Mercer, neither willing to give ground. Mercer couldn’t help his mind wandering to her dark skin, lightly sweating; her dark red eyes, boring angrily into his every time he got the upper hand; the attractive set of her jaw when she smugly grinned at him when she temporarily won the scuffle. The feel of her warm body beneath his. The sheer strength with which she held him down.

Finally he had her pinned, her arms on either side of her head as he straddled her, both of them panting. Her hood had fallen off entirely, revealing her shockingly red hair, mussed and scattered through with twigs and leaves. Her mouth was parted as she panted for breath, her red eyes deeply intense.

Without considering what he was doing, without even making a conscious effort for the action, Mercer leaned down and captured Sathea’s lips with his own, kissing her hungrily, viciously. Sathea squeaked in surprise, but a second later he felt her respond. She sucked his bottom lip between her teeth, biting down until he tasted blood.

He growled at her even as he felt himself harden, pulling away from her and glaring down at her.

“Bitch,” he muttered, even as his body hungered for her even more at the sight of lust in her red eyes.

“Ass,” she shot back, her voice breathy. He only realized he’d let her hand go when it shot up next to his face; he flinched instinctively, sure she was about to hit him, but instead the hot fingers slipped beneath his hood, grasping his hair and yanking him down to her lips again. Her tongue flicked lightly over the spot her teeth had pierced. _I’m sorry_ , the soothing softness seemed to say. A sharp nip a second later, however, added, _But I’m not, really_.

At this, he positively devoured her, his kisses so fierce they hardly deserved such a kind term. Her fingers clenched in his hair, tugging at his scalp, telling him she didn’t mind it. In any case, her kisses were just as fierce, if not more so; he thought his lips might be bruised later.

He didn’t care.

He rarely bothered with women anymore; he’d been so focused lately on the Guild and trying to keep his secret theft going that he didn’t take the time to sate that particular need. In any case, none of them had been so appealing…not since Karliah.

But now he had a perfectly adequate specimen of Dunmer woman beneath him, and she seemed all too willing. What was more, she knew all about what he’d been trying to keep secret, and was much more feisty than anyone he’d ever lain with. He’d be an idiot to pass the opportunity up, and Mercer Frey was no idiot.

Breathing heavily, he wrenched his lips from hers, nipping at her chin before flicking his tongue up her angled jaw. He felt her shallow breaths at his ear as he moved, and it made him shudder.

Maybe it had been too long. Maybe he needed to keep this desire filled more often.

“You know,” he rumbled low in her ear when he reached it, and felt her entire body jerk underneath him, “I could consider this sufficient payment.” She snarled.

“I’m no whore,” Sathea breathed out, unable to sound any fiercer for the heavy desire flowing through her veins when he talked in her sensitive ears like that.

“No,” Mercer agreed, flicking his tongue experimentally along the pointed tip of her ear. She moaned, and he grinned. “A whore gets paid for sex. You’re using it as payment. A minor difference, really.”

“Fuck you,” Sathea spat, though she was trembling with her own need beneath him now.

“I thought you’d never ask,” Mercer taunted brushing his lips gently against her ear before sitting up. He smirked as she was paralyzed at the sensation. Taking advantage of the state he’d left her in, he swiftly began unbuckling her Guild armor. Wearing it for so many years himself gave him a distinct advantage, along with his deft fingers – he wasn’t the Guildmaster for nothing. By the time she managed to orient herself again, her armor was undone and Mercer’s fingers were working the ties on her leather trousers open, too.

“I wasn’t asking, you son of a bitch,” Sathea snarled, and he couldn’t manage to contain his surprise when she grabbed his hands, yanking them off her and getting the advantage of him again. Strategically positioning her knee between his legs, she unbalanced him and rolled him over, letting go of his hands as she straddled his waist. She had positioned herself directly over him, so it was easy to grind her hips down onto him. He wasn’t able to suppress a moan of desire at the motion.

“Then what the hell are you doing?” Mercer rasped. She was behaving awfully eagerly for someone who didn’t want him. He was further shocked when, the next moment, she yanked off the armor he’d unbuckled, her hood and then breast band swiftly following so that she was now naked from the waist up.

 _“I was telling you_ ,” she rumbled in a low voice, her face inches from his. He didn’t even remember that he was at perfect liberty to move when her lips crushed against his, her tongue thrusting into his mouth so fiercely her teeth knocked his own. He felt her fingers fumbling with his armor, and he didn’t think twice about helping her, his fingers scrambling with hers. That accomplished, she let him sit up enough to pull his armor from him, his hood accompanying it in the growing pile of discarded clothing.

Sathea let out a breath of admiration as she gazed at him for a moment. For being a Breton, and not a young one, he was surprisingly well-built. His broad chest was well-toned and thoroughly defined, and she couldn’t help reaching a hand up to run her fingers through the spattering of hair that covered it.

“Like what you see?” Mercer asked smugly, his voice lower and rougher than normal. She pushed him back down hard, annoyed at his interruption.

“Why don’t you just keep that smartass mouth of yours shut for five minutes?” Sathea suggested savagely, pressing her lips to his neck. He groaned softly, relaxing into the gentleness of her touch, and she smirked against his skin before nipping at it, hard.

“Dammit!” Mercer cursed, trying to pull away, but she held him still, her tongue soothing the bite mark with gentle pressure. “What are you, a vampire?” Sathea chuckled darkly.

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” she said evasively. This got Mercer’s attention and he froze.

Mercer was a difficult man to frighten; not much even startled him, let alone made him feel afraid. The stories of vampires, though… 

Sathea pulled back to look at him, a hint of concern in her face.

“What’s wrong?”

“Are you…a…v-vampire?” Mercer asked, cursing his nervous stuttering. Sathea snorted with amusement.

“Afraid of vampires?” she asked, cocking an eyebrow. Mercer growled angrily. Of course she would be the one to find a weakness in him.

“I’m not afraid of anything,” he bit out, though he felt his cheeks redden slightly. “I hate you.”

“I’m crushed,” Sathea said sarcastically, though her voice was oddly warm all of a sudden. “But don’t worry, Mercer.” She leaned close to him again, whispering in his ear. “Even if I were a vampire, I’d never turn you. One month in your presence has already been too much; I’d rather not extend it to several lifetimes.”

Being turned was not what worried Mercer. He’d heard the stories of vampires, biting their victims and sucking them nearly dry, leaving them to die with terrible, unspeakable pain.

But surely she wouldn’t be going through all of this just to leave him to such a fate, would she? If she was interested in feasting on him, she would’ve done it already.

“If you’re a vampire, I’ll kill you with a clear conscience,” Mercer threatened. Sathea grinned against his neck.

“Poor, fearful Guildmaster,” she said with mock sympathy. He pushed at her, his desire quite waning in the face of embarrassment that she’d found a weakness of his, but she didn’t move. “Well, fine, if you’re going to be all ridiculous about it. No, I’m not a vampire. Happy?”

“No,” Mercer snapped, pushing her harder, and this time he did manage to get her off of him, turning around and pinning her down again. He narrowed his eyes at her as she kept the smug smile on her face. “You say anything to anyone, you better be halfway across Tamriel before I know about it.”

“Whatever you say, _Guildmaster_ ,” Sathea smirked.

Mercer Frey was not used to being ridiculed, and he didn’t much care for the feeling of it.

“You better remember that,” Mercer said angrily. He put his hands on her shoulders to push himself to his feet, but her hands came up to grasp his wrists.

“Where are you going?” she demanded. He looked at her in astonishment; was she actually protesting him letting her up?

“Back to the Cistern,” he said roughly. Though his desire had quite diminished, the frustration was still strong. “Somewhere you ought to get before someone catches you.” She still didn’t release his wrists, but was eyeing him speculatively.

“You’re upset that I know something about you,” she finally concluded.

“I am not,” Mercer snapped. “And in any case, it’s inconsequential. It doesn’t matter at all.” A blatant lie.

“You know, we all have something that bothers us,” Sathea said impatiently. “So what if I know yours? Want to get even? Want to know mine?”

“No,” Mercer said. It was another lie – she intrigued him. She had since he’d set eyes on her, though most of that he’d pinned to her being a Dunmer. Her skill in thieving, however, combined with her talent with a blade and her observant nature truly made him wonder about her. But he wasn’t in the mood to discuss it. “I _want_ to get back to the Cistern. It’s late. Let me go.”

“No,” Sathea said angrily. “You started something, and you damn well better finish it.” He almost laughed aloud as he realized his frustration was mirrored in her just then.

“And if I don’t?” he taunted, though even her plea for it had stirred his desire again. A wide grin split her face as she looked smugly at him.

“Then I guess I have no incentive to keep my mouth shut,” Sathea said, pleased with herself. Mercer wanted to be angry, but on some level he realized her desire for him was quite strong for her to keep him held down on top of her like this, and it only fueled his own.

Mercer Frey, of course, was no idiot.

“Incentive, is it?” he asked silkily. He moved one hand and she released it at once. He used the freedom to trail his fingers lightly over her skin, down her chest between her breasts, across her stomach. She gasped in a breath when he hit a sensitive spot. “Alright, then. Incentive I will give you.” She grinned wickedly up at him, her red eyes darkened with want.

Mercer wasn’t a gentle, kind man, and it was no different when it came to taking a lover; he was rough, possessive, and passionate. The one thing that defined Mercer above all else, however, was his patience. Whatever it took, however long it took to get what he desired – he would do it. And it was this particular quality of the Guildmaster that left him trailing his fingers surprisingly gently all over the Dragonborn’s sensitive skin, leaving her breathless, writhing, and whimpering for his touch.

Sathea lay limply on the ground beneath him, her body having given in to every gentle touch his fingers graced her with. Her breathing was quite heavy, and she was clearly desperate for him; just as he’d hoped.

With her eyes closed, she didn’t see his hand reach for her breast, and she let out a yell of shock when he grabbed the dark mound roughly, squeezing it cruelly with his fingers.

“Mercer,” she whimpered. He gave her a self-satisfied smile that was more of a threatening show of teeth than anything kind. It made her writhe. He let go of her breast, trailing his fingers extra-gently around the peaked bud of it for a moment until she relaxed again. Immediately he pinched her dark nipple with two fingers, increasing pressure until she cried out a choked, unintelligible plea.

“What was that?” Mercer asked roughly; this was affecting him far more than he’d planned. He wanted to make her scream; wanted to feel her around him as he made her scream out his name in the throes of ecstasy. But that wasn’t the plan. “Didn’t catch what you said.”

Sathea panted out a few breaths, trying to make herself answer. “I said – ohhhhh!” she moaned as he pinched the other hardened nipple, interrupting her.

“You know, your speech skills could use some work,” Mercer tsked, taunting her. “I can’t even understand you.”

“I hate you,” Sathea breathed out haltingly, barely able to contain herself. He could feel her writhing underneath him and it was driving him crazy.

“I’m crushed,” he mocked her, repeating her earlier words as he squeezed her nipple hard again. Now that she was a true writhing, panting mess, he dared to get off of her, trusting he had incapacitated her for the time being. It seemed he had guessed right, because as he finished unlacing her trousers, she kept still, only moving to help him remove the things when he had finished.

He tried not to let it affect him, her lying there in front of him completely naked; but it really had been _months_ …and that toned, dark-skinned Dunmer body was positively calling to him like a siren’s song.

He wasted no time in trailing two fingers softly over the dark, perfectly smooth lips; as soon as she shuddered, he shoved them both inside her, causing her to scream for the first time. He grinned, wildly smug. Her wetness attested to how much he’d managed to turn her on, and it pleased him immensely.

“Mercer, oh, gods, Mercer,” Sathea panted, trying to push her hips up onto his fingers. The words sounded so delicious to his ears that he quite forgot to insist she call him Guildmaster.

“Would you look at that,” Mercer scoffed. “The Dragonborn, spread and wanton in the middle of the forest.” She shuddered at his words, but they seemed to only spur her on. He raised an eyebrow in surprise at that, but enjoyed it far too much to say anything.

He rotated his hand so his fingers could still pump inside of her while his thumb found the sensitive bundle of nerves just above her center. 

“Mercer,” she moaned pitifully as he stroked it. He was ridiculously pleased at the way he was making her come undone for him; it didn’t seem to take much, but it still proved his skill. He could sense that already, she was nearing the edge.

So he stopped, pulling his hand away from her at once.

“Mercer,” she begged, her eyes flying open as she nearly sobbed the plea. “Mercer, please…”

“You wanted incentive,” Mercer shrugged, patting her calf condescendingly. “There you have it.”

“What?” she asked, flaring up at once. “What are you – what do you mean?!”

“You keep your mouth shut, and I’ll _finish what I started_ ,” he said, again echoing her.

“But – but – what about now?” Sathea asked, feeling confused. “I – I don’t understand!”

“You said you wanted incentive now,” Mercer said, and he pushed himself to his feet. Gods, but it was going to be a lot harder to walk away from her than he’d imagined. “So you got your incentive.” There was silence behind him as he walked toward the shore where his sword was still stuck in the soft, muddy ground.

“You complete _bastard_ , Mercer Frey!” Sathea shrieked. Mercer had almost reached his sword, chuckling quietly to himself, when a hit from behind sent him sprawling in the muddy ground by the water.

“What the hell - ?” he yelped, stunned for a moment.

“You are the biggest asshole I’ve ever laid eyes on,” Sathea growled furiously, pinning him with her face inches from his. He couldn’t help the small shudder at feeling her breasts pressed against his chest.

“Not my fault you’re so damn desperate,” Mercer said, trying to sound unaffected. “Get off me.”

“You think you’re the only one who can take what they like?” Sathea spat. She ground her hips down into him and he breathed out a moan.

“You must want it bad,” Mercer sneered.

“So do you,” Sathea smirked, rubbing herself along his length under his trousers. Mercer could feel her heat on him even through the leather.

Fine. He wasn’t going to turn her down – not anymore.

His hand shot out, grasping her hair and pulling it hard. She cried out as her head was forced down, his lips meeting hers as he held her head still, thrusting his tongue into her mouth. She wriggled on top of him again, though it seemed involuntary. Perfect, he thought, and before she could realize he was thinking anything else, he grabbed her shoulders and rolled them both over so he was on top of her again. She glared at him.

“You had your chance, Guildmaster,” Sathea breathed, chest heaving. “I believe it’s my turn.” The way they were positioned on the hill made it easy for her to shove him off balance and to the side, landing once again in the mud. They were both going to be filthy. He started to sit up but she pushed him down again, turning so one knee held his torso as she faced his trousers. In no time at all she had them undone and pushed them down, freeing him entirely.

Dear gods, it had really been too long for her. He was average, perhaps a little above it, but the sight of him absolutely thrilled her. She couldn’t wait to feel that inside of her.

“What’s the matter, never seen one before?” Mercer taunted, pushing on her ass where it faced him. She growled in annoyance, getting off him and going to settle herself over top of him. Before she got far, however, he had sat up in a flash, grabbing her hair and forcing her lips to his in another punishing kiss. “Suck it,” he breathed as he pulled her head away. She tried not to moan, she really did, but it didn’t seem to work, because he grinned after the sound escaped her throat.

“No,” she breathed, a token protest at best.

“Yes,” Mercer commanded, pushing her head down so her lips were an inch away from his length. She licked her lips and he grinned; this was something she enjoyed, even if she was going to pretend not to. He relaxed his hand in her hair for a moment. “Go on.” Her breath was shuddering now, and it was obvious how much she wanted to. 

Finally, it seemed her desire won out over her pride and her wet tongue flicked out over the head of him, making him tremble.

“That’s it,” Mercer said roughly, his fingers massaging her scalp now. “And don’t you dare bite,” he added threateningly, tightening his grip in her hair again. He felt her huff out a snort at that, but he was relatively sure she wouldn’t.

He leaned back on his elbow, his one hand still in her hair as she wrapped her tongue around him then, the softness enveloping his head a moment before her lips sank down onto him.

“Fuck,” Mercer hissed out as her heated mouth surrounded him, her tongue sliding against his length. “Yes.” He trailed his fingers through her hair, being rather gentler than he normally was, before finding her pointed ear and rubbing his fingers along it. She moaned around him and he bucked into her mouth, sensation overwhelming him.

Sathea worked her way down him, taking more of him in every time her mouth sank onto him until he was hitting the back of her throat. She pulled away when this happened, but he wasn’t having it; he tightened his grip on her hair again and forced her back down onto him, making her take him all the way into her. She squealed in protest, but he wouldn’t let her move, enjoying the combination of her hot mouth and the control he was exerting over her far too much.

A moment later, he yelped, yanking her head off him; she had, in fact, bitten him, though it wasn’t hard.

“What did I tell you?” he snarled, his fingers still holding her head and turning it so he could see her. She looked incredibly smug.

“You don’t want me to bite, don’t suffocate me,” she said thickly. “And stop trying to yank my hair out of my head.”

“You – ohhh,” Mercer’s insult turned into a groan of pleasure as Sathea brought her hand up to him, stroking him hard with the slickness her mouth had left there, his head dropping back. She grinned when she felt his hand fall from her hair and pushed lightly on his chest, forcing him down onto his back on the muddy ground.

Sathea was quite pleased with herself as she sat there stroking him for just a moment, admiring him. He was quite smeared with mud, though she was as well, but somehow it didn’t detract at all from his looks. The look of bliss was quite foreign on his face, but she realized with a jolt that she liked it – she liked it a lot. She liked it enough that she desperately wanted to keep it there.

She felt him buck up into her hand but realized the slickness from her saliva was going away, so she bent back over him, taking him all the way into her mouth once more.

“Nocturnal take me,” Mercer whimpered as she sucked enthusiastically at him. It had been a long time, so very long, since he’d felt this particular sensation; his body felt limp as an overcooked carrot with her hot lips sliding over him, almost entirely given over to the sensation.

She was far more enthusiastic than any other partner he’d ever had; it was obvious she’d done this before, and done it well. When he was able to control his limbs again a moment later, he managed to bring his hand up to her head again, this time gently guiding her as she slid along his length. It didn’t take long before her expert tongue had him heading swiftly toward release, and he grasped her hair to pull her off him; much as he enjoyed this, he truly wanted her.

“What’s wrong?” Sathea asked, her voice thick and weak as she cleared her throat. He didn’t answer, but instead gathered himself enough to push her onto her back, leaving her once again sprawled out before him. 

Lust burned fiercely in her red eyes as she gazed up at him.

“Take me, Guildmaster,” she murmured, staring directly into his eyes. The simple plea undid him completely, and he growled as he fell on top of her, devouring her mouth in a harsh kiss before sliding inside of her. Once he was positioned properly, he thrust into her hard, feeling her hips automatically come up to meet him as she cried out.

“That hot little mouth of yours is talented,” Mercer breathed harshly in her ear. Her arms went around him, her fingers scratching at his back. “How much practice have you had, anyway?”

“None of your damn business,” Sathea grunted, digging her nails into his skin until he hissed. In retaliation he bit her ear, making her yell. “Damn you!”

“You scratch, I bite back,” Mercer said smugly. He forced himself to rein in his thrusts; he didn’t particularly want to, but if he kept going like that, he was going to spill himself all too soon.

“Mercer, dammit,” Sathea panted, trying to force him to move faster again. He smirked.

“Anyone ever taught you the value of patience?” Mercer asked. His reward was five fingernails clawing down his back, making him hiss in pain. “You’ll pay for that one.” He moved so he was nuzzling her neck, giving her a moment’s comfort before he bit down hard on her collarbone. Sathea shrieked and he chuckled, pleased. He was less pleased when, a moment later, her other hand found his hair, pulling on it sharply.

“You son of a bitch,” Sathea snarled. He stilled inside her, leaving her wanting and writhing against him as he pulled back enough to stare at her.

“What’s the matter, footpad?” he taunted. “Not as clever as you thought you were?” Sathea forced an enraged sound from her throat.

“You want me to Shout at you again?” she asked angrily.

“I _dare_ you,” Mercer grinned. He was at least confident she wouldn’t set him on fire, and she was enjoying this too much to throw him again.

“FEIM!” she cried, and all at once, her warmth disappeared from him; she was no longer beneath him or around him or under his hands at all. Thrown off balance, he fell forward onto the muddy ground, only barely catching himself before his face hit it.

“You bitch!” he cried, enraged. He heard a ghost of laughter just off to his side, and he leaped toward it, grabbing her just as she became real once again. “I will get you back for that,” he promised, wrapping his arm around her waist and dragging him toward her as she tried to scramble away.

The sudden exposure to the cool night air after having her heat surrounding him had softened him a little. Keeping one arm on her waist, the elf on her knees with her rear facing him, he used his other hand to stroke himself.

“Mercer,” Sathea said, her voice mixing desire and annoyance, though it sounded like she had a hard time getting the words out at all. “Let me go.”

“No,” he said harshly, and on impulse he adjusted himself and slapped his length against her slit. She cried out, though it was clearly in pleasure, and he realized he’d enjoyed it much more than he expected as well. He did it again, and her hips thrust back, desperate to feel him. “Gods, you’re an eager thing.” With this treatment, it hadn’t taken him long to fully harden again, so he once more slid quickly into her, eliciting a pleased gasp from her. He placed his hands on her hips, holding himself steady even as she started to match him thrust for thrust.

“Mercer, oh, gods, Mercer,” she whimpered, her voice raw as she slid herself onto him, then off again. “Yes…”

“Fuck,” Mercer cursed. Hearing her calling his name like that was music to his ears, sending a shiver of pleasure straight through to his length inside of her.

He wasn’t the kind sort, of course, but he’d be damned if word got around he was a lousy lover. He leaned over her, his chest pressing against her back as his arms went around her. One hand moved to her breast, cupping it and pinching her nipple, while the other slid down to her center, stroking her bud again.

“Mercer!” she panted, various squeals and gasps of pleasure and pain issuing from her lips as he stroked her, pinched her, touched her. He kissed her back, grazing his teeth along her sensitive skin, noticing there were scars beneath his tongue as he flicked it on her. Somewhere in his mind he wondered about them, but he was far too focused at the moment to care.

He realized not long after that she was clearly approaching her climax; her breathing grew more erratic as did her matching thrusts on him. He pounded into her even harder, his fingers working her bud as the other hand roughly grasped her breast.

“That’s right, footpad,” Mercer growled breathlessly. “Scream for me, elf. Scream my name when you come for me.”

“Mercer!” she cried obediently, the shrill cry splitting the night. He grinned widely. “Oh, gods…Mercer!” He felt her tightening around him; he knew he wasn’t going to last much longer with her insides milking him like that. He took the opportunity of her utter compliance to bend over and clamp his teeth down on her shoulder, sucking hard at her skin. She screamed again, and he wondered if it was even louder or if it was only that way to his own ears.

A few final thrusts inside her pulsing heat and he lost himself, his release hitting him like a warhamer as he slammed into her.

“Sathea,” he groaned out, not meaning to say her name but unable to stop himself as he hilted himself inside her, staying there as she squeezed around him and he spilled inside her. With a shuddering breath, he started to relax, panting as he wrapped his arms around her, pulling her up to her knees and against his chest.

“You bit me,” she whispered accusingly, panting as hard as he was.

“So?” he murmured, kissing the mark he’d left. It was already bruising, even the dark skin discoloring under the bite. It pleased him far more than it should to know she’d bear his mark for a time.

“Bastard,” she breathed, though her heart clearly wasn’t in the insult. In fact, it sounded almost affectionate. He held her to him more tightly, kissing up her neck to her ear. He had to admit, he quite enjoyed this, simply holding her against him after their release, feeling her skin on his, the urgency gone and a simple, relaxed state replacing it. 

This was what he’d wanted with Karliah, all those years ago. Back when he’d still had a heart, or at least one he thought worth catering to.

She’d managed to destroy it, singlehandedly, in one horrible, crushing sentence.

_“But…I’m with Gallus. I thought you knew.”_

He tried to shake it off; he didn’t want to think about it just now, not when he was so relaxed, and had so little to bother him at the moment. And in any case, it didn’t matter; it was twenty-five years ago.

“Vex is going to be furious,” Sathea finally said, amusement in her scratchy voice. Mercer was confused for a moment before he remembered what she’d told him before. He snorted; he couldn’t help it.

“That Imperial thief,” he scoffed. “She’s hard as stone, and cold as stone to boot.”

“You don’t have to tell me,” Sathea said, rolling her eyes. She tried to clear her throat, but it didn’t help much. “Let me go.”

“What if I don’t want to?” Mercer asked, kissing the back of her jaw. She shuddered a little.

“I’m about to collapse,” she explained, clearly unable to trade barbs with him at the moment. He relented, letting her go, and then she did collapse, right into the mud, though she managed to turn onto her back first. He laughed at the sight of her.

“You’re covered in mud,” he pointed out, though he couldn’t think what else he’d rather do so he joined her, lying right next to her.

“So are you,” Sathea said, tiredly scooping up a handful and smearing it on his chest. He shoved her and she laughed.

“Bitch,” he mumbled.

“Yeah,” she agreed. They lay there in silence for a while, both seemingly, strangely, content. “By the way. It’s glowing orange eyes you have to look out for.”

“Huh?” Mercer asked, utterly confused. She turned to look at him, a small smile on her face.

“Vampires,” she explained, her voice soft. “Their eyes are bright, glowing orange. If you want to be able to keep away from them.” He stared at her for half a minute.

“I always heard they were red,” Mercer finally admitted, feeling vulnerable as he did so, but somehow still comfortable with her.

“That’s what a lot of people think,” Sathea nodded. “Strange, isn’t it? But no. They’re bright orange.”

“Oh,” Mercer said. Well, that was good information to have, anyway.

“We should get back,” Sathea finally sighed. “I’m exhausted.” She sounded it.

Sathea got to her feet, going over to her armor, and then made a face when she realized she was so filthy.

“Dammit. Now I’m going to have to clean this tomorrow.”

“You’ll be cleaning mine, too,” Mercer smirked, joining her. He tried to wipe the mud off him as best he could. “Since this was your fault entirely.”

“Oh, sure!” Sathea said, a deceptively sweet smile on her face. “Just get it on – I’ll clean it for you. In the lake.” He laughed – he hadn’t expected anything else from her.

“You’ll clean it and oil it properly, footpad,” he ordered, sliding his trousers back on and lacing them up as she was dressing.

“We’ll see,” Sathea snorted. She was nearly dressed, though Mercer was only in his trousers and boots. He reached for her, grabbing her chin and yanking her toward him, his fingers digging harshly into her jaw. He smiled, in that odd, predatory way he had.

“You’ll do it,” he murmured, his lips not far from hers. “Because I told you to.” He leaned in, kissing her hard and leaving her with a sharp nip on her bottom lip.

“Ass,” she murmured breathily as he pulled away. 

They gathered up their things; Mercer grabbed his sword before Sathea could, but didn’t ask her again for the Guild’s payment. Making sure she looked as presentable as she could under the circumstances, she turned back to Mercer, her eyes soft.

“Hey,” she said quietly, and her hand came up to wipe a bit of mud off his cheek. “Your secret’s safe with me. Just so you know.” His heart gave a dull thud at that, the sincerity in her voice mixed with the kindness in her eyes. He paused for a moment, trying to think what to say, and he felt his face soften as he realized he was grateful. He opened his mouth to say it, but it wouldn’t come out.

“It damn well better be,” he growled instead. She smiled, shaking her head as she let her hand fall and picking up her pack. He watched her walk away toward the lake, presumably to get cleaned up in the water that would be warmer than the rushing stream. Shaking his head at himself, his brain telling his heart to shut the hell up, he walked back to the Cistern where he had his own private bath – at least he wouldn’t need to use lake water to clean himself up.

It wasn’t until he was taking his belts off in his room that he realized something was amiss.

His daggers – both of them – were nowhere to be found.

“Oh, you’ll pay for that, footpad,” he muttered angrily.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed this, as I had a lot of fun writing it. Even if you don't want to leave a review, I'd love it if you could click on the little "kudos" button - I love knowing someone enjoys my work!


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